All It Takes Is One Person
by ZevieObsessed2012
Summary: One-shot. Kind of dark. All it takes is one person to do something nice for another, and although we may not always physically gain something in the end, we almost always gain a peace of mind. You may not be the bravest, or the smartest, or the biggest person, but the smallest acts go a long way. Sometimes you can't just sit by, you have to do something. Zevie-ish. T for language!


**All It Takes Is One Person**

The diner was lit dimly, and a lot of the lights flickered to the point where if you stared at them even a few seconds, you risked getting a migraine. It was close to ten at night, so by now everyone had gone home. The waitress was cleaning up the counters and floors, not bothering with the girl sitting in one of the booths, crying.

She'd tried to talk to the girl, but got no responses each time.

The bell on the door rung, signaling another customer had come in, and the girl that was crying looked up so quickly her neck cricked. It was the first move she'd made in the past four hours she'd been there. Her features looked alarmed, but when she was the man standing in the doorway wasn't the person she was expecting, she put her head back in her arms and resumed her self-pitying.

The man in the doorway looked over at her, and he had considered sitting across from her, but crying, sniffling girls was never something he dealt with well. Instead, he made his presence known to the waitress—"One moment, sir"—and then sat in a booth as far from the crying girl as he felt necessary.

The diner was quiet except for the girl's soft sniffles and the hums of dying bulbs, and this diner was located on the side of what some called a never-ending, desert road. Nobody drove through here unless they were the kind of people into long, aimless car rides, and that wasn't many people.

The waitress tried once again to ask the girl if she wanted something, but the crying girl never looked up. The waitress, not having the heart to kick the girl out, simply walked towards the man's booth with her notepad already out of her apron pocket. She clicked the pen said, "What can I get you, sir?"

"Just a coffee… decaf, and I'm not good with crying girls, but why don't you get her one too? She looks like she could use it…" the man said, nodding his head over at the girl who kept her head buried in her arms. Her body shook lightly, and the man felt bad…

She looked like she needed a shoulder to cry on.

As the waitress walked away, he contemplated for a moment what good going over to her booth would do. When he figured it couldn't hurt, he stood up and walked over to her. She continued to cry, ignoring how his footsteps echoed through the diner. He sat down across from her.

"Penny for your thoughts, miss?" he said quietly, fighting the urge to laugh nervously—a habit of his.

She ignored him.

He sighed heavily and leaned forward in his seat, staring at the back of her head. She had dark curly brown hair—a bit greasy, like she hadn't seen a shower in days—and she looked pretty thin.

"What's your name?" he tried again. Still nothing. "I'm Zander…"

Nothing.

"Age?"

Once again, he was ignored. He huffed, frustrated, and went back to his booth. She continued to cry, and no matter how hard the man tried, he couldn't think of anything else but her, and maybe that was because her crying had turned into noisy hiccups and uneven breathing.

The waitress came back several minutes later and placed his coffee down in front of him, and then she brought the second mug he'd ordered over to the girl, who only looked up to see what was placed down in front of her. He took this opportunity to observe her. Her cheekbones were quite prominent—she looked like she hadn't eaten anything in days. Her skin was gravely pale and the only color in her face was the red around her eyes from constantly and pointlessly drying her tears.

She mumbled something to the waitress, who whispered something back and then the girl's eyes drifted over this his booth. He looked away quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice that he was looking first, but she continued to stare at him, and so he knew right away she was fully aware.

She cleared her throat and pulled a few crumpled up dollars out of her pocket and placed them into the waitress's hands. For a minute, Zander thought she was going to give him money, and he was ready to protest, but the waitress stuffed the dollars back into the girl's hand and shook her head slowly.

The girl gave up and accepted her money, and as the waitress walked away, she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged the mug close, sipping from it so she wouldn't burn herself. The bell to the door rang again as it opened, and the girl looked over, and instantly she looked horrified. She placed the mug on the table and slid farther into her booth seat.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind Zander, sitting on the opposite of the diner, and they didn't take much time approaching the terrified girl. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if it would protect her, but the man who approached her was bulky as hell and probably six-foot-something. Her bottom lip quivered as the man towered over her, and he laughed bitterly.

"Get any smaller, _whore_? It won't make it harder to drag you out of here by your hair," the man sneered, taking a step closer.

Zander sat in the booth, helpless, holding his breath. Was he supposed to do something? Well, what? What was he supposed to do? Obviously this girl was being threatened, but the man was almost twice his size, and about three times her size. Either he helped this girl and got the hell kicked out of him or he let this man talk down to her and carry out his threat.

"How'd you get that?" the other man sneered, pointing to the girl's cup of coffee. "You're shit poor, and I didn't give you any money, so how'd you get that? If you're stealing from me, so help me God!" he roared, grabbing the girl's arm roughly.

She cried out and her lip quivered more, but she mumbled something and the man looked over at Zander, and for the first time in his life he felt true terror. The other man stared him down and then he leaned forward towards the girl, who tried to turn her head—he forced her to look at him—and whispered something into her ear. Her mouth fell open in horror and a sob rang through the diner.

_Where the hell is the waitress? Can't she call the cops or something?_ Zander thought, horrified by whatever the hell was playing out before his very eyes. The girl shook, terrified and watched as the man left the diner.

Zander felt like he could breathe again. If that man left, he wouldn't be coming back, right?

The girl had gone back to crying—she buried her head in her arms and sobbed loudly, ignoring the fact that Zander could hear her. He looked toward the door and made sure the man wasn't waiting outside before he stood up and walked back to her booth.

She continued to cry and by now her coffee had cooled down long ago. He sat down across from the girl and said, "I know you're pretty scared about what just happened… but _what_ happened?"

Her body trembled as she tried to calm herself down enough to speak, and after what felt like forever, she looked up at him. He noticed her features clearly now; she was beautiful, _very _beautiful, and she looked tough but completely broken—_well how was that possible?_ he wondered vaguely.

"H-He said that—" she gasped for air through her tears, "—he said that I have twenty minutes to get back outside and into his car before he comes in and drags me out… I ran away from him earlier this morning… and I thought I'd gotten far enough away that he wouldn't find me, but I forgot he could track my cellphone… it's the only thing I have on me, plus six dollars, but how far is that going to get me?" she cried, resting her forehead on her palm.

Zander couldn't speak for a minute, what was he supposed to say? This girl seemed to be a victim of human trafficking or something, and in all honesty he was terrified. Never before had he found himself in this sort of situation, and he lived in a state that had quite a large rate of missing women and human trafficking.

"Did you run away from home or something, or is he, like, your father?" Zander asked, shifting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. The girl scoffed, disgusted.

"No, he's not my father! That's repulsive!" she cried.

It was Zander's turn to scoff, "I hate to say it, but that little display that I just saw—that was pretty repulsive too. Maybe not as repulsive as if he were your dad, but it's up there with that…"

The girl bit her lip and a small laugh escaped her lips. There wasn't one creepy thing about this man that she could find, and it unnerved her a little bit. But then she remembered she didn't have much time to talk and so she shut herself up again.

"Look, I can't talk to you… if he's watching us, he'll hurt me for it later…" she mumbled.

"You don't deserve to be treated the way he clearly treats you," Zander said quietly, leaning forward in his seat. The girl took a sip of her cooled coffee and shook her head, protesting.

"No… no, he took me in when I ran away from home…" she said softly, placing her cup back down onto the shiny surface of the table with a _clink!_

"Why'd you run away? Actually, what's your name even?" Zander asked, trying to get as much in as he could before that man came back. He had to get this girl out of here, no way was he letting that other guy take her back—he would never be able to live with himself.

"My name's Stevie, and look I shouldn't be telling you all of this! I don't have that much time, and he's gonna come in here and drag me out!" she cried nervously, rubbing her arms to warm herself up. Now that she drew attention to it, he noticed she was wearing a short skirt that just barely made it halfway down her thighs, ripped leggings, and a thin white t-shirt that went over one shoulder. He could almost clearly see her purple bra underneath.

She clearly looked uncomfortable, but she also looked like she was used to these clothing choices. Her eye makeup was barely there anymore from all the tears and constantly wiping them away.

"Look, I can get you out of here safely," Zander said quietly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. _Hazel…_ he mentally noted. "You need to trust me though and do as I say…"

"And what if you're just like him?" she spat, clenching her teeth. Her hard stare softened though. Maybe just this once she could trust him—after all, he didn't give her the creeps. She bit her lip, thinking quickly—she didn't have much time and the last thing she wanted to do was go back to that man…

"Alright fine, I'll go with you. How are you going to sneak me out of here?"

"Stay here, I need to chat with the waitress. I'll be quick," Zander said, watching as she stared at him in horror—a chat? _A chat?_ She was, in the next ten minutes, about to possibly be pulled out of this diner by her hair and all he wanted to chat with the waitress?

He noticed her anger though and said, "Trust me, I know what I'm doing…"

Stevie sat by herself in the booth, visibly shaking. How much time had passed? It felt like forever before Zander came back and placed his hand on her—she shook him off, afraid it was the other man, but he let her know he wasn't going to do anything.

The waitress stood in the doorway and gestured for Stevie to follow her. Stevie did as she was told and about five minutes later, the man came back into the diner and saw only Zander sitting in the booth he was sat in when the man left. He approached Zander who struggled to remain calm and said, "Where _the fuck'd she go?_"

Zander looked at the man and said, "Who? Your girl?"

"She's not my girl, she's a whore. And yes, her, where'd she go?" he spat. Zander fought the urge to wipe the spit off his face and instead shrugged his shoulders.

"She left."

"What do you mean 'she left'? Where'd she go?" the man roared, slamming his fists down on the table.

Zander swallowed thickly, keeping his calm, and said, "Sorry, sir. I don't know where. I watched her leave through those doors there." Zander gestured toward the other set of doors on the opposite side of the diner and watched as the man's harsh gaze shifted that way.

"You're fucking with me. Don't make me beat the shit out of you. Tell me where she went," the man said, leaning down and hissing the words into Zander's ear. The words gave Zander an internal pain, like he'd swallowed acid or something.

He gulped and said, "Of course I don't think you're an idiot. She went out those doors about ten minutes ago."

He roared and stormed out of the doors. Zander got up quickly and watched through the windows as he got into his car and sped off, probably hoping that if he was fast enough, he would catch up to her on the side of the road. Zander couldn't help but laugh at how stupid the man had been.

"He's gone," he called, watching the car lights get farther and farther away down the road. It was a haunting sight, but he could finally breathe normally again. He was just glad not to have been punched—that monster looked like the kind of guy to punch you if you breathed in his face.

The waitress carefully walked a shaking, terrified Stevie out of the back room and handed her off to Zander.

"I need to close up now, I'm sorry… I've already been here and hour longer than I have to be," the waitress said quietly, looking exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to get home which was probably another hour-long drive—there weren't any houses for miles.

Zander carefully rubbed Stevie's back and said, "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? You trust me?"

She nodded her head slowly and followed him out to his car.

In there, and the drive to what Stevie assumed was his place, she had explained exactly why she had run away from home and how she'd ended up in that man's atrocious "care". Some of the stories she'd told him sent shivers down the length of his spine—she'd been with other men just like that.

"Once you get picked up by someone like that…" she said quietly, "It's hard to get away… and sometimes you never do."

She had been a victim to human trafficking and, unfortunately rape more times than she could count. She kept herself pressed up against the window, as far away from Zander as she could. Though he'd gotten her safely out of that diner, she couldn't bring herself to fully trust him—other men had been caring and they turned out to be completely sick in the head.

"Not all guys are like that though," Zander began and he heard her about to protest, so he quickly said, "And I'm sure they've said that, but you have an instinct… you know when guys are being creepy or genuinely sincere…"

She shut her mouth.

"What do I come off as to you?" Zander asked curiously, rolling down his window.

Stevie shrugged, and closed her eyes as the orange glow from the streetlights was becoming too much for her—she was exhausted, "You don't seem creepy… and I've seen guys like him fight each other over me… they beat each other up, and it's awful… but whoever wins is the one that takes me… and then they can do whatever they want to me… I don't know how I got into this mess… I was young and stupid when I ran away… and some guy picked me up off the side of the road… said he was going where I was and I believed him…"

"You were young and just ran away from home, Stevie. You were probably scared, and thought it was the best option. It kept you from turning around and going home…" Zander said, trying to be as sympathetic as he could. He'd seriously never been in this sort of situation, so he didn't know how to help.

She started sniffling again, and she then it turned to crying, "I just want to see my family again… and I haven't spoken to them in years… they're probably wondering if I'm even still alive," she cried, resting her head on her knees.

"Where do they live? Do you know?" Zander asked. At this point, he didn't care if it was across the country. Her family was probably terrified, and this girl was terrified, and although they'd just met… he felt that he needed to get her home. He didn't want to gain anything from this, he just felt that getting her home would be the right thing to do.

She gave him the address, and as he had guessed it was out of state. It was states away from this place. He had told her to get some sleep, and she decline—she, out of fear, tried so hard to keep her eyes open, but eventually sleep had taken over her. It was noisy and restless—she thrashed and kicked and cried, but she slept.

By the next morning, Zander had decided to pull over onto a deserted side street and shut his eyes. He was exhausted and he couldn't drive anymore, and thankfully Stevie was still asleep.

When he woke up, it was to the sound of the car door slamming. Bleary-eyed and completely out of it, he looked around and it hit him quickly, the panic. Where was Stevie? He looked out the windshield, but she wasn't there. He looked through the rear-view mirror and saw her walking away from the car.

Zander practically ripped his seatbelt off and dashed out of the car, "Hey!? What the hell?" he snapped, chasing after her. She kept walking.

"Stevie—Stevie! Where are you going?"

She stopped and looked at him, "I can't sit there and wait to get going again, what if he finds me?" She had been crying again, and Zander felt guilty, but if he hadn't have had that short amount of sleep, he would've had a better chance of falling asleep and driving them off the road than getting her home.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm fine now… I'll drive you home, just get back in the car… someone else is going to pick you up if you keep walking, and then you'll never get home…" he argued, finally getting close enough to her. Stevie crossed her arms.

"How do I know you're even taking me home?"

"Because I don't have anywhere to be and if I had let that guy back at the diner leave with you, I would never be able to live with myself," Zander said a bit too harshly. He didn't expect her to really trust him, not after everything she'd been through, but he was so close to getting her home… why give up now?

"Just… let me take you home," he sighed, tired and frustrated.

"Fine," she mumbled, dropping her arms to her side and walking back to the car. He sighed, relieved and followed her. When he got back to the car, he started it up and continued driving—once again asking for the address.

He only hoped that it was the right address—by now, her family could've left that house and moved somewhere else. He didn't want to say this to Stevie because the last thing he needed was trying to get her back into the car again.

By nightfall, he'd found the house. Stevie was asleep in the seat beside him, and he shut the car off, careful not to wake her up. He walked up to the front door and knocked, looking back at the car to make sure she was still asleep.

She was.

It was late—almost eleven—and he was just hoping somebody was still awake.

After what felt like forever, and several back glances later, the front door opened.

"Yes?" a women asked. She had light red hair, and Zander began to fear that this was the wrong house—that it wasn't her family and his earlier worry had been correct.

"Good, um, evening, ma'am… I, um, could I ask you something?" he began nervously, and the women made to shut the door.

"I'm not talking to any reporters," she snapped.

"No—no! I'm not a reporter… are you the mother of a Stevie?" he asked, trying to keep the door open. The women hesitated, but then she slowly nodded her head. Now that he observed the women closer, she had the same eyes as Stevie.

"I found your daughter," he said slowly, watching as her face became unreadable.

"You mean—do I have to go with you? To… to identify—?"

"Oh no!" Zander said quickly, watching as the woman became confused, "No… I found her… alive… she's in the car right now, she's asleep…" he said all in one breath.

The woman's jaw dropped and said, "You—you found my baby girl?"

Zander nodded his head, "I was in a diner last night, and she had been there a few hours… she ran away from the guy that 'owned' her," he said awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair, "I managed to get her out of there, and I've been driving since last night… let me go wake her up…"

The woman nodded and watched as Zander walked back to the car. She had begun to tear up and the ran back inside to go wake everyone up. Zander approached the car and carefully opened Stevie's door, nudging her slightly.

"No!" she mumbled, her eyes shooting open. Her chest was heaving and tears streamed down her cheeks, and Zander knew she'd just woken up from a nightmare.

"Stevie, you're fine… um… you're home…" he said quietly, watching as her jaw fell open. She looked past him toward the house and saw everyone standing in the doorway. She threw her seatbelt off and Zander had to catch her and steady her on the sidewalk before she rushed out of his arms and up the front steps to her family.

She was in tears by the time they'd all hugged her at once, squeezing her and saying how much they couldn't believe she was home; that it had been years since they'd heard from her—"Thank God you're alive!"

Zander stood in front of his car with the door open. He didn't know how to feel. He was glad to see how happy he'd made them all, but he wasn't sure if he should've left. After all, it was a very private moment…

Just as he got into his car, Stevie ran back and tapped on the passenger's window.

"Where are you going?" she asked once the window was down. Zander shrugged in his seat and shut the car off.

"I was going to drive to motel for the night and then drive back home tomorrow…" he said calmly, though very confused. Stevie shook her head.

"No, stay tonight… I'm sure we can find room, and it's the least we can do… after you brought me back to my family," she said sincerely, biting her lip. She was shy asking him to stay, but really! She couldn't just let him possibly drive himself off the road from exhaustion after he'd gotten her home.

He was a complete stranger, but he'd changed her outlook on people.

"All it takes is one person to be nice to someone," she said quietly, hoping that would convince him. He finally nodded and got out of the car, and she lead him inside where, after several minutes, he'd been given a room to stay in for the night.

_All it takes is one person_… he thought, over and over again. Sleep hadn't come easy for him that night—he was too busy replaying the events of the last two days, but he felt internally complete having saved Stevie. And after he realized that she was safe with her family again, and he hadn't just let her leave with that abusive and lame excuse for a man, sleep had finally come.

**A/N: Alright, this came to be entirely by something I had watched a little while ago. It's called "What Would You Do?" on Route 66: Runaway. It's really interesting, and you can find the clip on YouTube. Seriously, watch it. It's so sad, but so inspiring. It's only like 9 minutes long. **

**As for Seven Long Years: CHAPTER 15 IS IN PROGRESS! I'LL TRY TO POST IT TOMORROW!**

**As for this, any thoughts? I just had to get something up on the archive because I feel awful about my lack of updates!**


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